Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2016
Bianca Reyes
Devouring the ravaging portrayal of arousal
Humming at tunes only heard and misunderstood
While forming science from abstract and holding
Pencils with dreamy hands enveloping haunting
And daunting beauty from within
As cerebral impulses begin exploding
Shared on Hello Poetry on July 21, 2016
Copyright © 2016 Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
Blah
blah
blah
Enjoy
 Jul 2016
Crystal June
There is no experience in the world
      that I cherish more
            than hearing my father play the piano.

It's imperfect and beautiful and
                                                       sounds
                                                          ­     like
                                                            ­      home.

The notes are often choppy, and there are pauses
      as his mind turns over what keys to play next --
            sort of like our lives as a family.

We're awkward
      and have
            broken             periods,
but altogether we're making music.

Every breath a note,
      every laugh a chord,
every      "I love you"      a harmony
            that
only our family
      can hear.

And there's staccato! arguments,

and there's fortissimo days with pianissimo nights,

and there's repeat on repeat on repeat,
      making our lives seem
      constantly       andante.

But life is like a series of randomly placed fermatas --
unpredictable, yet musically enriched because of it.

            And I wouldn't want it any other way.
The day my father stops playing piano is the day a piece of my soul dies.
 Jul 2016
Ovi-Odiete
(WHO CAN POEM SERIES 1)

-
Who can tell why a Child cries?

It's in the spun of his thoughts
In the thoughts of his mind
The mind of his soul
In the vibes that he sings
The voice of the Night
It's in the night that he fears
In the fear that he holds
The shadows he sees
It's in the cuddle he miss
The rain that he feel
The heat that he bears
And
The morrow that he threads


It's in the scream of the nights
In the plights of the owl
The ***** on his skin
The noise of the cars
The images he conjures
It's in the things he cannot see
In the words he cannot hear
The strangers he cannot near
It's in the reach of his heart's tears
The heart of his life
The life of his soul
And
The innocence where he dwells


Ovi Odiete* ©

All rights reserved

*THE WHO CAN SERIES 1
The WHO CAN SERIES is a series of Poems that uses a back and forth writing/comparison to explain the depths of a poem created by myself

A CHILD HAS HIS WORLD
IN A CHILD'S WORLD
MANY MYSTERIES ABOUND
THE FEAR
THE THRILLS
THE DEPTHS
AND ALL THESE HE EXPRESS
THROUGH TEARS
Ovi Odiete©
All rights reserved.
 Jul 2016
ThePoet
The words will come
when you're sound asleep
And you've lost it all
and have nothing to keep

When your mind is shallow
and your pain is deep
And your eyes resemble
the clouds that weep

The words will come...

©
 Jul 2016
Kata
She wants me
But she is too close to all the things that broke me
I want her
But I am too close to all the things that are broken in her
So we stand far apart,
whole days pass
At dusk,
A silhouette of all we can be for each other
Too afraid to have our heads in the clouds
For clouded minds don’t see bigger pictures
The light in me says
You are trying to fight something you do not know  
The dark in me says
You can’t fight what you do not know.
 Jul 2016
Valsa George
Between the departing day and the descending night
If it suddenly rains as a bolt from the blue
With no umbrella to shield our heads
How I wish to walk with you
My hands twined around your waist
And no one around but only you and me

As the sun hides behind the Western gats
Bleeding red and waxing pale
How I wish to ramble hand in hand
      Along the sea shore under the canopy of the sky
Sharing silent thoughts and counting the waves
Lost in our private world, just you and me

On a bright clear day when the Southern Bay
Like a voluptuous maid lies draped in blue
And its placid surface dotted with sailing boats
How I wish to get into one
And drift afar to some unknown destination
With no one else but you and me

On a silent morn, standing on a rocky precipice
How I wish to proclaim aloud to a waking world,
Slowly emerging from the haze of mist
That you are mine and mine only
And to its rebounding echo, a spectral form from far
Responding- ‘We are one, you and me’

Somewhere in a sheltered nook,
Screened from the buzzing crowd with a river winding by
And the clear waters snoozing on the white sand
In a small sequestered cottage,
Where nightly winds flute on the window panes
How I wish to build a life with only you and me

As we stand in a tight warm embrace
When my hot breath falls on the nape of your neck
And as you pant with passion like a frightened deer
How I wish to get enrobed in your mystery
And sail down to the abyss of an unknown experience
When nobody else matters, but only you and me!
…………………………………………………………

When life takes an obliterating course,
When suddenly the night closes over
And dangers prowl around us like carnivores beasts,
How I wish we could still remain one in spirit and soul
And the vagrant fate or the wanton death
Could never separate us, you and me!
A blistering , tense July -
as the view begins to 'silver'
Excitement builds in the dancing -
trees , petrichor fills the Western -
breeze
Robins bound from tree to ground
Insects at the will of life's current -
are rushed eastbound at the 'Lightnings
Command'
The mercy of 'Michael' is now at hand
Half dollar sized drops of rain begin to fall
'The Summer War of the Piedmont' has officially begun* ...
Copyright July 16 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Jul 2016
Christopher Black
The things I would trade
To go back to the day
Before darkening storm
Took my happiness away
Next page